


Running crazy through the memories

by AllHailTheUnderDogs



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Can't tag to save life so more to be added at some point, Five's terrible with his feelings, Getting Together, Klaus is fabulous as always, M/M, Pseudo-Incest, The family's a bit more in the background here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 07:57:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19719463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllHailTheUnderDogs/pseuds/AllHailTheUnderDogs
Summary: Klaus reaches out first, because that’s what Klaus Hargreeves does, he touches and explores and he leaps into danger for some baffling reason that mere mortals could never understand.And he takes Five’s hand like it’s nothing, fingers threading together until a cool palm presses flush against his own heated one.





	Running crazy through the memories

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I meant to write more Klive months ago and for some reason nothing could click right. I wrote a lot of this in small scraps as a plan for a kind of prequel to my other fic but it never came to more than a few random lines and ideas. So instead it's ended up like this, where it could be seen as a prequel, or just Five's thoughts and feelings towards Klaus and how they end up together after the apocalypse. Which super conveniently is stopped in their current timeline and all the bunch of idiots have left to do is work on themselves :)
> 
> Either way I hope you enjoy :)

Five’s just about to finally make some headway with his equation when once again, like always in this damnable house, someone has to intrude.

“You awake?”

Five can honestly say that he didn’t expect to be interrupted this late in the even- well it’s now morning technically, but there’s Klaus’ scruffy head peering around his door.

“No.”

“Great.” Without waiting to for an invitation the séance bursts into his room, all long limbs and a deceptive grace as he launches onto Five’s neatly pressed bed, bare feet kicking up in the air. “So what’re you doing?”

Well that’s the question really, because why is he awake, and if Delores can’t answer that for him then he doubts Klaus can, so he waves a hand at the latest assortment of incomprehensible - not that he’ll _ever_ admit it aloud - equations that just won't work how he wants them to.

“Working, evidently.”

Klaus is predictable in certain ways, and the silence that starts to settle between them is clearly too much that even though Five gave no indication that he wished to continue this conversation, the séance decides to keep talking.

“I can’t believe that I'm not the only one still up, I mean nobody behaves normally around here anyway, but-"

“Klaus, what do you want?” Five asks curtly.

“Well now you ask,” as if it isn’t obvious that he’d come here to have someone listen to his complaints, “I’m lonely.”

He’s turns to tell his brother precisely what he thinks of such trivial woes, but Klaus is staring up at the ceiling, and he’s… he’s tired.

Klaus looks tired, and weary, and quite frankly miserable, the mask of Kohl eye-liner and glitter isn’t holding up to it’s usual standards. It’s the worse time for the familiar trickle of affection and warmth to glow within Five’s chest and his voice comes out far softer than it might otherwise.

“Diego’s-”

“Out, fighting bad guys and so on.”

“Vanya.”

“Asleep, and Allison’s the same.”

Five’s about to mention their _fearsome_ leader, but Klaus rolls onto his side, hand propping his head up and levels him with a look that spells out precisely how such a suggestion would be received.

“Ben’s not here, and everyone else is so fucking loud Five.”

_Ah _.__

There they were, the crux of Klaus’ problem, Five can’t pretend he understands the complexities of withdrawal or how a power like Klaus’ affects his ability to cope in the real world. But he’s aware that his brothers been sober, asides from alcoholic substances, for the last few weeks and it’s an achievement that the whole family’s helped work towards, a better team bonding experience than anything Reginald could come up with.

Five’s lip curls at the thought of the late billionaire, he isn’t delusional, the man’s not his father and he refuses to award such a title to the monster. He glances towards Klaus and for the first time in so many years he can feel his head go fuzzy, he’s always in a perpetual state of motion, brain ticking over to the point where it’s difficult to spit the ideas out fast enough. There’s whole rooms in this godforsaken house filled with the by products of his tinkering. It’s not usually an issue, he no longer struggles to filter through those thoughts, to attempt to manage them in some coherent format.

Klaus without knowing it, knocks everything off kilter and Five’s not been avoiding him so to speak, however he can’t be accused of relaxing in the presence of his brother since he’s been back in the same time line.

“Please, little guy, I’m desperate here.”

Although Five wants to snap out at the slight, Klaus’ lips are quivering and another dash of heat settles behind his ribcage at the sight.

“Fine, but you’ll be quiet, I’m trying to concentrate and I don’t wish to listen to your inane chatter.”

“You’re the best Fivey.”

_Inhale slowly, hold for ten seconds, release._

He picks up his chalk, repositioning back at his previous spot, Klaus stretches out on his bed, curling around one of his pillows, and Five ends up speaking aloud as he starts scribbling along the wainscoting.

It’s so he can try and make sense of his work, not for the man listening avidly to his words.

* * *

The first time is an anomaly, or so Five expects. But there’s the second night that then bleeds into the third and before he knows it Klaus has become a permanent fixture sprawled out on his bed.

And it’s affecting other aspects of his day, the open affection and casual touches that Klaus seems to deal in, as if there isn’t a wasteland and a plethora of drugs and bad choices between now and when they were young. Like Five isn't an entirely different person that used to let Klaus pose against his shoulder for the world that watched their abuse with excited eyes.

The seance by nature, is a rather clingy person. Five has seen him starfish across their siblings backs for attention and usually he’s managed to avoid this. For his own sanity more than anything else. Today though, Klaus has decided to rectify this.

Five’s stirring in another lump of sugar to his already unhealthy morning drink when a weight plasters against his side, hands sliding along his arms and settling beside his own. There’s a brief second where Five’s mind drifts into uncivilised territory, twitching to disarm and disable that which is attacking him. But he’s breathing through it, and without giving his new hundred and ten pound burden any time to realise his entire body’s taut and tense, Five turns to Diego and drawls. “Can’t you do anything about this?”

Number Two finishes a mouthful of his toast and grins before Klaus answers for him. “I’m cold Fivey and all of the advice says that sharing body heat is the way to go so don’t be mean.”

Diego snorts, though there’s no bite when he replies. “Of course you’re cold idiot, look at what you’re wearing.”

Five will not look.

Klaus hums as he shifts until he’s positioned directly behind Five. “Why would I cover this beautiful body when I have my own personal body warmer right here.”

“A little deference please.” Five takes a calming gulp of his coffee if only so that he doesn’t throw the mug at Diego’s amused face.

“You’re the ultimate, super duper, terrifying, badass time travelling assassin.” Klaus deadpans, head resting atop his and for a moment Five has to resist the urge to press back against the séance's scrawny body. “Better?”

“Much, though next time a little less sarcasm would be nice.” A warm thumb traces lazy circles along the bones of his wrist and it’s not a pressure he would have thought pleasant, but like many things, the touch is enjoyable because it’s Klaus administering it.

“That’s bullshit, if one of us spoke to you like that you’d have stabbed us, _again_.” Diego protests.

 _One time,_ and Five doesn’t point out that really if Diego hadn’t wish to be injured then he shouldn’t have attempted to sneak up on Five, especially not before his first trip of the day to Griddies to get a decent cup of coffee.

Instead he replies, “Was it not humiliating to be wounded by one of your own blades, I’d be mortified to have such _little_ control.”

Before a knife can hurtle through the air, Five’s jumping, enveloping Klaus with him in the familiar blue-burn mist that still sends shivers down his skin. It’s not that he wouldn’t enjoy the spectacle of Number Two attempting to best him, but knowing the idiot hanging off of his shoulders, Klaus would somehow end up getting involved.

And the last thing Five needed this morning was an injured, attention seeking Klaus to distract him.

Though he's nowhere near prepared enough to be confronted with the long line of Klaus' bare legs when they stop.

* * *

The thing Five’s quickly come to discern is that his brother simply does not care.

Klaus has always been in that unenviable position of having to prove himself, first to Reginald, then the world, and finally like a circle finishing he was back to trying to impress the Hargreeves once more, just his siblings this time and not the abuser.

 _Sir_ pushed him and he rebelled with an orchestration of his own defilement, drugs and alcohol and any other substance that allowed him to remain blissfully unaware of the world.

_But…_

Leaving Klaus alone, letting him stew and simmer until he’s boiling over, until he _wants_ to prove himself? _That_ Klaus is an entity that defies the laws of physics, an aberration of nature that plays with death like it’s a dear friend, summoning spirits and spectres that for all of his travels through time, Five’s never seen anything as glorious.

Maybe before he’d left Five knew that there was this magnificence in his seemingly powerless brothers too frail body, it’d explain his admiration for the extravagant séance, the acceptance of Klaus’ familiarity.

Truthfully there’s no excuse for why Five’s allowing the séance to spend time with him now after so long.

Or why he feels this echoing, hollow pain clanging through his adolescent bones on the nights when Klaus doesn’t seek his company.

* * *

Five isn’t settled, he’s too quick, form not fully distinct, like he’s a half second from sliding out of his own skin.

What’s bought this on he couldn’t explain, there’s a plethora of triggers that chafe and threaten to slice him apart at any given moment and he’s used to charging against the restraints, battering at them until he can go about his business. But today is one of those days where he simply cannot cope.

He doesn’t dare jump, won’t risk the chance he’ll disappear down a dark path and this will be the time that he doesn’t resurface.

Klaus finds him on the open rooftop, Five can’t hear him over the roaring thrum in his ears. His brother doesn’t say a word, crouching down until they’re a few scant inches apart from one another.

If it were any other Five would lash out with all of his thorns attached, hurt and break and ruin just like he’s wont to do when trapped and broken.

Klaus reaches out first, because that’s what Klaus Hargreeves does, he touches and explores and he leaps into danger for some baffling reason that mere mortals could never understand.

And he takes Five’s hand like it’s nothing, fingers threading together until a cool palm presses flush against his own heated one. Five concentrates on the methodical glints of Klaus’ bangles where they catch the light and not the jolt to his system where they’re connected.

For a man infamous for his lack of patience Klaus stays with him until sun sets and Five wonders if this is what it’s like to find somebody special, that’ll share the silence when he needs it.

* * *

Five crosses his arms, defensive and wound tight in a way that seems exclusive to Klaus’ special brand of torment.

“I bet you’d look really hot in this one.” Klaus holds up two different articles of clothing he’d burst into Five’s room to show him.

“Well your imaginations the closest you’ll ever get.”

Instant regret hits him as Klaus’ eyes darken, lips quirking up as he stares unashamedly between the pleated skirt and Five.

“You really don’t possess any shame do you?” He doesn’t gulp, not at all.

Silence stretches out long enough that Five resumes his reorganisation of the bookcase, and only because he’s so damn attentive to the séance, does he catch a quiet sigh.

“You’d look beautiful.”

Five’s gone, slamming through the ether like a startled animal, if only to hide the furious heat spreading across his face.

* * *

Luther’s experiencing a low day. That’s what Allison scrawls in her notepad for all to read.

Five thinks that he’s having a tantrum.

However this is the sort of thing that they’ve all been working on, how to delicately tiptoe around one another’s broken pieces without crushing themselves into dust. But the gigantic oaf snapping at Klaus for his out of tune singing has pushed Five’s patience to it's very limits.

So although he wants to point out that this sort of behaviour is why Reginald sent him to the moon. He doesn’t because it’s a taboo, a subject not to be broached in case Number One spirals, ends up going on a jaunt through a nightclub again.

But yet it’s acceptable for all of them to bring up Five’s apocalyptic ‘adventure’ as a source of ribbing and ill humour.

It’s not that Five’s particularly affected by the hypocrisy, but he does find it vexing that there’s such rampant double standards within their family.

Klaus laughs it off, ruffles a hand through Five’s hair that has him promising untold pain upon the séance, before his brothers linking his arm through Five’s and defiantly singing loud and awful as he leads them away.

* * *

Despite his abhorrence for Reginald Hargreeves, Five will agree on one point, their gifts are just that. They needed to be cherished, appreciated, honed and wielded with precision and care. It’s criminal to waste their powers

Five’s aware of all of this, yet he can’t help but seek out Klaus’ company, soaking up the haze his presence brings and so when the subject of alcohols bought up he can’t help but to agree to something he should probably reject.

Drinking. In a teenage body. That’s never been trained to handle copious levels of alcohol that’s not sophisticated cocktails but tastes like raw ethanol.

Really Five should have known to draw the line.

But he’ll blame Klaus. Because he can, and also any attempt of cognitive processing has long since left his capabilities. Washed away by the seventh, eighth, fucking ninth drink clutched in his clammy hands.

It’s dreadful, the erratic pulse of heat’s replacing his blood and firing him up into something that’s burning, and there’s no controlling the painful heavy pounding of his heart.

“Shit Five, I thought you could drink,” Deliciously cool hands steady him, and Five’s throwing himself forward, chasing after the soothing touch until his fumbling fingers tighten around Klaus’ and without thinking he’s drawing them closer.

A hand splays across his stomach, pure contact on skin bared from his rucked up shirt and Five moans in relief, barely noticing the sudden tension in the arms bracketing around him.

“This is your fault, fix it.”

“I’ve got you Fivey,” and Klaus does, steady hands guiding Five forward and he’d jump straight to his bed if not that he could end up anywhere, that and he’d lose this tether that’s holding him steady.

“Five work with me here.” His body is manipulated, limbs that feel foreign and unwieldy are pliant in capable hands and then soft covers are being pulled up to his chin.

“Don’t go.” He whines for the first time in his life, skin feverish when his brother pulls away.

Klaus makes a strangled noise before he’s running a careful hand through Five’s hair, leans forward and there’s a gentle brushing sensation over his cheek. “I’m not leaving.”

* * *

It’s been a long time since Five’s experienced a hangover, his old body happily immune to such a thing, this one’s virgin fresh, _ha_ , and he’s paying the consequences now.

“How was it?”

“I hated every moment.” He blearily attempts to scowl at Klaus where he hovers in the doorway, a glass of water clutched in his hand.

“I get that.”

“And I hate you.” _Ah _,__ he might be peering too far left.

“Perfectly understandable.”

The hazy outline seems to be getting larger.

“You’re the worst.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“Worse than Allison.”

“She’s better than all of us.”

“And Vanya.”

“Sweet girl.”

“Luther-”

“I’m going to have to stop you there before we really fall out.” A flash of white and Klaus’ smug, irritating face looms too close and yet those cold, _cold_ , hands press against his still burning skin, and Five finally caves and lifts the covers up the tiniest amount.

Klaus is standing over him one moment and like he’s stolen Five’s ability, the next second he’s curling around Five’s body and for the first time the ridiculous height difference between them no longer vexes him when he’s cocooned in his brothers arms. 

Later, much later, after several glasses of water and a piece of half burnt toast courtesy of his brother, Five’s propped up on top of the roof with Klaus filling the quiet for them both as is normal for them now.

“Wait, what?” His attention hooks onto something ridiculous.

“You don’t get the sun without the dark.”

Five raises a brow.

“Fine I heard it in therapy one time, and it sounded really cool.” Klaus whines and the sounds not entirely unpleasant.

“Pointless sayings to inspire the weak.”

“You’re such a cynical fucker.” Those clever eyes fixate on something that’s not visible and Klaus is a few seconds away from becoming distant, lost in whatever sequence his mind plays out for him, and Five knows this because he’s done the same too many times to count.

But he doesn’t want to be sat here alone, and he doesn’t want Klaus to disappear, and so he reaches out and grips the hand resting between them.

“You don’t get joy without pain. Bliss impedes progress. No shortcuts-”

“Weakling.” Klaus blinks, squeezes Five’s fingers until they lose sensation, and for some incalculable reason Five steals a move he learnt from an old black and white movie, lifting their threaded fingers and pressing his lips to the back of one of Klaus’ knuckles.

* * *

Turns out that you can jump from embarrassment alone.

And if you’re holding onto your brothers hand then he definitely comes with you, even if its unintentionally and you really didn't want to.

It’s kind of awkward to explain.

* * *

It’s irksome, that to the outside world it appears as if Klaus is the inappropriate one, like Five is being taken advantage of. When truthfully, it’s only ever been Five that’s the dirty one, he’s so very old, decades of creaking bones and worn out skin buried under this adolescent figure. Klaus is thirty, Five knows this, but in terms of development and maturity and emotions, Klaus is so very young. A broken, tired boy that needs protecting from broken, tired fools like Five.

Klaus’ clutching a pilfered cigarette that Five is pretending not to see, the séance blows out a series of circles, eyes crinkling with such a simple joy when they spiral through the cold air. They’re not being cowardly, but at the first raised voice (Diego’s) followed immediately by another (Luther’s) they’d hidden in their usual spot high above the chaos that inevitably accompanies their siblings.

Usually Five can summon the energy to deal with his family, but tonight he doesn’t have the patience not to be cruel.

“You’re my favourite.” Klaus announces out of nowhere.

Five scrunches up his nose, the unexpected confession pushes out a question that he doesn’t mean to ask, “Why?”

Klaus doesn’t smile, or laugh, or redirect, or do anything that Five expects, he just answers, so very plaintively, “you always have been.”

Five tenses, throat tightening and quietly repeats himself. “Why?”

Klaus stands abruptly, twisting so quickly that he’s swaying on the edge, and he smiles at Five, a slash of white that sends a chill racing over his skin.

“If I fell, right now, you’d catch me.”

It’s a statement not a question mark, but Five nods regardless.

“Why?” Klaus parrots.

“Because you’re my broth-”

“Wrong.”

“Excuse me?”

“Wrong, try again.”

“Because you would die-”

“Done that, it didn’t take unfortunately, but still wrong.”

Five’s growing exasperated with this silly conversation. “Then tell me Klaus, why would I catch you?”

“Because you love me.”

There’s a blur and then hands fist in the material of his blazer and he’s pulled forward until his feet scuffle against the edge, flush against Klaus’ and there’s no escaping, even if he wanted to.

Considering the fatal drop behind him the séance is being remarkably calm, going so far as to rock back on his heels while Five is here, stunned.

“And do you know why you love me?” Klaus looks far too serious despite his attempt at a nonchalant shrug.

“I trust you.” It surprises Five, slipping out between one inhalation and the next.

His brothers grin is beautiful and terrifying in equal measures.

Five learns very quickly that Klaus kisses the same way he does everything in life. Messy. Excitedly. And demanding all of Five’s attention as if he hasn’t had it since they were children.

Five’s doesn’t know how to catalogue the delighted skip of his heart when Klaus draws away, eyes wide and happy, before impatiently kissing him again. It’s gratifying to feel the sole focus of Klaus Hargreeves, dangerous when he can feel the seances fingers carding through his hair, catching just enough that the sting startles Five with how much he wants more.

Klaus pulls away to breath at some point, unable to stay quiet even when he’s panting. “Don’t worry loverboy.”

A new nickname, not the worst he’s received. Although there’s very little coherent thinking going on right now, and it’s not helped when Klaus casually says, “I love you too.”

* * *

A long time back, before there’s a rooftop, or late nights, or even a _them,_ Five’s stood in the kitchen of his childhood home, soaking up the post world saving bliss that comes from knowing he’s actually done a good job.

His siblings are jubilant, posturing with one another over who deserves the credit for which part, asides from poor Vanya where she still glances obsessively at the raised flesh that tracks across Allison’s throat. That’s going to take a lot of time. But she has it now.

They have all of the time in the world.

His eyes drift to where Klaus is trying to hold a three-way conversation between the ghost of their brother and Luther, the latter of which looks like he can still barely understand that Klaus is really that powerful.

Five blocks a shiver as he recalls the memory, the knife in his chest when Klaus had foolishly stormed into the music hall amidst a hail of bullets, Five can’t really admit that’s what’d prompted him into recklessly flashing atop one of their attackers. But Klaus didn’t need him then, probably doesn’t need any of them anymore, not with the way he’d burst and shimmered as if his veins were alight with blue fire.

Five smiles into his mug, much to the shock of his siblings and if he was pressed he might say it was for finally having a decent cup of coffee or for being alive when all of the odds have for so long been stacked against them.

But the truth is rather pitiful. His smile is for Klaus.

They’re only ever for Klaus.


End file.
